


long-distance run

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complicated Relationships, Force-Sensitive Finn, Future Fic, Knight of Ren Finn, Lovers to Enemies to Potential Lovers Again, M/M, Past Dark Side Finn, Past Relationship(s), Redeemed Ben Solo, Regret, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-05 00:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16357448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: It was damn near impossible to keep his voice from stumbling over the name Finn knew best, but there was no point in reminding him of the past when they were now in the same boat. “Ben,” he said, tipping his head. Every thought racing through his head was some variation ofI’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d understand, why didn’t you come with me, I would have brought you, too. “It’s good to see you.”





	long-distance run

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kereia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kereia/gifts).



Finn never truly thought he’d see Kylo again, not in this lifetime anyway. Maybe not ever, though they both knew that the Force worked in mysterious ways. And Finn had reconciled himself to that fact when he’d made the decision—quick and unexpected though the decision had been. It was, in fact, the very first thing he thought of when he realized he had to go and it was the only thing that halted his step as he strode through the halls toward the interrogation chamber where they’d stashed Poe, his mind racing. He’d known all the while that Kylo would understand and that he would more than likely blame Finn for doing it anyway. Simply because he couldn’t.

At the time, he’d told himself that it didn’t matter because they would never meet again so there could be no reckoning. Finn had, for all intents and purposes, expected to fade into the background radiation of the galaxy, become one of tens of billions of the most isolated and nondescript beings the galaxy had to offer. He’d intended to become a nobody on the dustiest, most out of the way backwater he could find.

And then the Resistance happened and here he was, small comfort that it was to him, trying to stand his ground while he stared up at Kylo Ren, now Ben Solo—or perhaps once again Ben Solo—and it might as well have been him facing directly up to his actions after Tuanul rather than Ben facing up to his. If he gave it any thought at all, he would not have expected their reunion to be this way, not in the slightest. If, when he’d decided to stick with the Resistance instead of doing the rational thing he’d planned to do, he’d thought about it at all, this was not the way he would have expected it to happen, no. No, he would have assumed Kylo would come at him with lightsaber in hand and death in his eyes.

There was no death there, only betrayal.

Finn thought perhaps that was worse.

It was damn near impossible to keep his voice from stumbling over the name he knew best. “Ben,” he said, tipping his head. Every thought racing through his head was some variation of _I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d get it, why didn’t you come with me, I would have brought you, too, why didn’t I know you’d turn_. “It’s good to see you.”

An understatement, that, and and overstatement, too. Because it was good to see him, so damned good. But it also filled him with dread to have Ben here, too. He hadn’t been there to greet Ben on the tarmac, had stayed behind in order to regroup as he caught up with the truth, which was: he’d defected. Kylo Ren had well and truly defected. The Supreme Leader himself. General Organa had asked Finn if he wanted to be the one to retrieve him and he, not sure what to say but moved all the same by her trust in him, had declined.

Another regret. They just kept stacking up around him. The shuttered, haunted light in Ben’s eyes was like nothing Finn had ever seen before and only made Finn feel worse. No, that wasn’t quite true, but there’d always been a sense of belief to underlie that distance, make it seem that the hauntings were worth it because it was in the service of something greater. Finn sensed through the Force that Ben had discovered the same thing Finn had discovered: there was nothing greater in Snoke’s teachings or the First Order’s ravings, nothing worth the sleepless nights, the terror, guilt, and fear that dogged each Knight’s steps through the _Finalizer_ or the _Supremacy_ or wherever it was Snoke sent them, like dogs and servants and perfectly loyal muscle, to do his bidding or otherwise scare the shit out of the rest of the First Order, who may or may not have been as dedicated as they.

He was glad for Ben, truly.

And sad, too. Because the loss he saw in Ben’s gaze matched the loss he felt in his own chest every day even though he knew better. And he’d never even been Snoke’s favorite, the best of all his Knights. Finn didn’t have the same legacy grown right in his blood that Ben had, though his own powers matched and, occasionally, exceeded Ben’s. There was, for Snoke, a certain appeal in having a living, breathing Skywalker in his command that Finn could never touch. And that made him lucky. Snoke’s claws had only extended so far with Finn.

He never held it against Kylo though. Couldn’t even if he wanted to. They’d always had a special bond as long as they’d known each other. Snoke had always wanted them to fight one another, but doing that only made them better, stronger. Somewhere along the way, they’d both realized that. Their little secret.

“I hear you killed him,” Finn finally added, a topic that couldn’t be seen as controversial by anyone. Maybe the only one. Hell, even the rest of the Resistance could applaud what Ben had done there. And Finn, Finn had been proud when he’d heard. That bastard deserved to die. And he remained perhaps the only one who fully understood why Ben might have taken the mantle of Supreme Leader upon his own shoulders as soon as it was done. “Good for you.”

The sound of Ben’s in-drawn breath was ragged, harsh, barely held together. Ben truly, deeply, incontrovertibly looked like shit. He couldn’t have been sleeping well, and why would he? He looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in years or felt a single shred of happiness. And though that had always been the case, there was something sickly to the cast of that paleness, like nothing quite sat right with him anymore. The scar Rey had given him, too, was brutal and brutally healed, a river run red across his face and neck. Such a complicated play of emotions crossed Ben’s eyes that Finn would have had to pluck them from Ben’s mind directly if he wanted to read them correctly and even though every atom inside of him wanted to do just that, find a little bit of the closeness they’d shared once, he refrained. And refrained. And refrained again moments later and every moment that followed that Finn could no perfectly understand the man standing in front of him now, so much conflict brewing inside of him.

They’d been apart too long. And Finn had done the one thing that everyone else in Ben’s life had also done. It would be a while, he thought, before Ben could trust him again.

Finn couldn’t—as much as he wanted to, as easy as it would be—he couldn’t regret having done this one thing. He wasn’t a Knight and he didn’t want to be one either and though he hadn’t wanted to become Kylo… Ben’s enemy in the process, that was just the way things worked sometimes. He bore no ill will toward Ben for it. Just as he hoped Ben wouldn’t bear any ill will toward him.

“I—” Ben stopped himself, brow furrowing, mouth pinching as he looked at Finn and then away again and then back at him, like he couldn’t quite decide what to do. It wasn’t like Ben had ever been the most decisive of men, but now it was just painful to watch the way he struggled with his thoughts, his words. “I’m sorry, Finn. For whatever that’s worth.”

Eyes widening, Finn was now the indecisive one. As much of him wanted to step forward and embrace Ben, an act he hadn’t considered except in the privacy of Kylo’s chambers or his own and even then he’d checked himself more often than not. But here, out in the open where anyone might see, it shouldn’t even have crossed his mind as a possibility. The Resistance had done strange things to him, he supposed. Strange in a good way. Strange in sometimes less than pleasant ways. He couldn’t decide which situation this one was turning out to be, not least of all because he didn’t know how Ben might respond.

Before, he’d always known what Kylo would do, which was why he limited how often he did it. The way he always leaned into the touch, it always felt a little too much like taking advantage, like Finn was exploiting a weakness that should have been beaten and burned out of Kylo a long time ago.

That might’ve been the stormtrooper training talking though. From before he’d been plucked out from the morass by Snoke himself. That made Finn lucky supposedly, but he wasn’t so sure of that. Then again, for all he knew he never would have gotten out if he was a stormtrooper. Reconditioning changed people, after all. And there was no way for Finn to know whether he was immune to that or not.

Finn tried to smile, but he knew it came out like more of a grimace, strained and unnatural, so different than anything he deployed here on the base with the others. Or even different than he’d used before. Back when he smiled with Kylo. And sometimes, rarely, got a smile in return. “You don’t have—” He sighed and swiped his hand across the back of his neck. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Not with me. I get it. Always did.”

That was something he could pride himself on. There was no one who knew Ben the way Finn did. Some might have known him better, his mother for instance, but only Finn had shared so much while they were both under Snoke’s tutelage. Not even Rey, who’d asked and asked Finn to explain what Kylo had been thinking on Crait and before, who’d been in Kylo’s head on multiple occasions, shared the same sort of relationship he’d had with Finn.

If Finn was being honest, he would like to share it again one day.

“Can’t say I’m not glad you’re here on our side, though,” he added, just to make it perfectly clear.

He thought maybe he had a right to hope when Ben smiled, easier than Finn had ever seen, and nodded. “Can’t say I’m not glad to be here, Finn.”

His own name still sounded perfect in Ben’s mouth. That, at least, had not changed in all of this.

That was something to go on. It was something to cling to.

It was hope and Finn had learned a lot about how to work with hope.

“Good,” he said, “then let me show you around, huh? We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”


End file.
